Dressage
by Sally Mn
Summary: It's one of those jobs only Ezra can do... if Chris can talk him into it.


**Dressage**

"Ezra..." Chris's low, slightly feral growl - and _that_ smile that went with it - should have had him caving. Problem was, the growl and smile had never scared the gambler from the first, and wasn't about to now.

Other Problem was, the rest of the boys were whooping it up like wild hyenas out the back, and being no help at all.

Larabee tried narrowing his eyes and staring menacingly.

Standish stared straight back.

Time for a different approach. Hell, no one could say he wasn't a reasonable man.

"Ezra, we need the best f'this, and you know you're the -"

"Ah said no."

Oooohkay, reason wasn't gonna work. Appealing to his better nature simply offended a man who didn't admit to owning one. And force was a bad idea with someone who packed more guns than an Army paywagon.

"Ah've done my duty in this fashion," Ezra went on, leaning back in the chair and flicking a gaze towards the door where the maniacal laughter was coming from, then at the offending articles piled on the table. "Possibly, since it's his idea _again_, Mister Tanner might like to volunteer."

Well, at least that shut one hyena up - even if the rest found it even something else to whoop about.

"Whah- like hell I will, Ez!" A shaggy head popped through the door. "I ain't - built for that sorta thing."

"Or Mister Wilmington, then. The resemblance is there, after all."

A darker, equally unsmiling head pushed Vin's out of the way. "Now just a goddamn -"

"And he could keep the facial adornment," Ezra went on blandly, "or part of it."

"Ezra, you damn well -"

"Shut up, all of ya!" Chris roared.

"Or as our fearless leader, you -"

"I said shut _up_!" Maybe shooting someone was the way to go - pity it couldn't be Ezra, though, or not till they'd got through this 'little job for the Judge'.

Hell, but the Judge was gonna hear about it later.

"He's got a point there, hoss," Buck grinned. "After all," and he also gave the articles the once-over with evilly gleaming eyes, "ain't as if you aren't used to the color."

"Buck, I don't wanna haveta shoot you." A lie - shooting Buck instead of Ezra was sounding pretty good to him. With a sigh, he turned back to Standish, still watching him with that flat no-way-in-hell-Mister-Larabee stare. "Look, Ezra... someone's gotta do it. If this plan of Vin's is gonna work -"

"If," Nathan mumbled skeptically, though his face was as serene as only someone who knew _he_ wasn't going to be volunteered could be.

"_If_ this is gonna work," Chris said, throwing a brief glare Jackson's way, "we need the sheriff of Razorback Hill. And we ain't _got_ the sheriff."

"Ah hardly see that Ah can be held liable for -"

"You ain't. We all know that's gotta be Buck's fault."

"Hey!"

"Shut up, Buck. Anyway, fault or no, he and Josiah are both too goddamn big. Vin and JD can't act to save their sorry asses -"

"Who says I can't?" JD piped up indignantly. "I - ow! Buck, what - oh, oh no I can't, Ez." He backed away, eyes wide. "Honestly I can't. No way. No sirree."

"Never been able to fool a day old buffalo calf," Vin's drawl dripped something that missed sincerity by a mile, but he met Ezra's - and Chris's - frankly disbelieving gazes with a sweet, lopsided, evil smile. "'Sides, one of them desperadoes might 'ave seen that wanted poster."

"And we should assume they'll identify you - like _that_?" What was dripping from Ezra's voice was positively acid. "Ah've said no, Chris, and Ah mean it."

Chris rubbed a hand across his forehead. How the hell they got roped into trying to save this one-and-a-bit-horse town while the sheriff was laid up was something he was going to raise with the Judge - and raise hell while he was at it. But before he could...

"Nathan's gonna need to patch up whoever gets his fool self shot - and don't try an' tell me there won't be any of ya that get your fool selves shot, I ain't that stupid - and I'm gonna be watchin' your back."

"I'm confident I could watch -"

Okay, much as Chris hated it, he had only one weapon left. Barefaced flattery. "Ya know full well the rest of us can't pull off a con like you can. You're the best, and we need the best."

A silence - Ezra stared at him with flat, measuring green eyes.

Okay, barefaced flattery and... greed. "Ezra... look, I'll talk to the judge about a bonus."

The green eyes narrowed.

"A big one."

"How much?"

"As much as we can wring out of him, but we gotta do this now, and you're the only one who can pull it off."

Ezra was still staring at him. "Ah'll kill the first one who says anything out of line," he said finally.

"Ya got it," Larabee glared at the others.

"Sure have," Vin obliged, with rather too much of that self-same lack of sincerity in voice and grin.

"Our word on it, brother," Josiah added somewhat too solemnly as he unfolded the offending articles and shaking them out. Tattered black petticoat, black bodice and stays, godawful ugly bonnet... and a tarnished tin star. Topsy McSporran, the beefy ex-madam and now sheriff of Razorback Hill, would kill them when she found out what they'd done with her best Sunday duds, but he'd worry about that later - if they survived getting Standish in and out of them at all.

Ezra stared at the garb with nearly as much loathing as he reserved for bad cheaters, JD's jokes, or Buck's ideas on trail cooking.

"That's right." Buck went to pound him on the back, caught a gaze as scorching than Larabee's best, and thought better of it. "Yer a brave man, Ez."

"Braver than us," Nathan decided to put in. The sizzling gaze turned on him, and he thought better of putting any more in.

"And look on the bright side, Ezra," JD, never squashed for long, said cheerfully, "at least you don't have to sing this time. Everyone says Sheriff McSporran sounds like a wildcat stuck in an outhouse when she sings."

Chris stood, wanting to get this on the move before they 'reassured' Standish back into flat refusal. "Okay," he fished out a cheroot, and gazed round for a minute at the grinning, relieved faces of the other five.

"So... there ain't any ladies to help us get him into the dress this time." Time for the feral growl and his best smile again, he decided, watching their grins congealing like butter left in the sun. "Which of us - nah, which of _you_ - are gonna help him get dolled up this time?"

**-the end-**


End file.
